


Sugar

by Collybear



Category: Fall Out Boy, My Chemical Romance
Genre: AU, M/M, Recreational Drug Use
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-23
Updated: 2013-07-23
Packaged: 2017-12-21 02:27:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,100
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/894726
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Collybear/pseuds/Collybear
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>Am I more than you bargained for yet?</i> As it turns out, yes. After a night of partying and a one night stand Mikey Way finds that Pete Wentz is far more than he was bargaining for. But Pete, well, he finds his muse.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sugar

**Author's Note:**

> Reposted from my deviantArt account(XOnTheFloor) and originally written for a contest with the challenge to work in the phrase "I was alone, and that was all that I needed to know". I won second place.

I'm convinced that Patrick is a leprechaun for two main reasons; one, he always seemed to know where and when all the good parties were, and two, and every one of the parties Patrick brought me to, he always managed to find someone for me to hook up with that I wouldn't not do even if my life depended on it. Also he's tiny and Irish, but by this point that's almost a secondary part to his leprechaun credit given his incredibly magical powers.

Anyways, Patrick and I, we had a “party routine” going on. It basically went like this; Trick went off to talk to people, while I went to find the fucker with the hard drugs and snort/smoke/pop/inhale whatever they had. After I'd gotten my fix Patrick would come to get me and introduce me to which ever attractive person his amazing wingman powers managed to bag in this time. Then I'd drag that person to an empty bedroom or closet and have sex with them. It was a routine I'd come to love very much.

This night was supposed to be no different. I found a shady looking dude hanging out in a corner and thirty bucks later I was one hundred percent higher on god knows what. I didn't recognize the pills, but as long as they got me blazed to an extent I thought was deserving of the money I shelled out, I wasn't going to complain. All was well and good(though considerably more colourful and sideways than usual), until Patrick came around with that night's catch.

I knew Patrick knew my type, but wow. I mean, I didn't believe in that love at first sight bullshit, but my mind changed when I say this guy. He was pretty much an exact mirror of the description I gave Patrick the first time he asked me what type of guys I was into. A gorgeous angular, but pretty face, and that long, lanky body type I've always been such a fan of. His glasses were dangerously close to falling off the end of nose, and he hardly looked up from his shoes once. Despite his complete lack of emotion, and his overwhelming awkwardness he still managed to look adorable and sexy. At the same time.

“This is Mikey Way, his brother's the one hosting this party. Mikey, Pete Wentz.”

Patrick stuck around long enough after the quick intro to keep something of a conversation going between the two of us. Though, it was really more Patrick pimping me out to Mikey, letting him in on all my “good qualities” while I interjected with a phrase or two whenever I could manage something coherent.

After he picked up on the fact that talking was going absolutely nowhere though, he was fast to leave, with only a quick goodbye and a pat on the arm. Which I had no objections to, since it wasn't all that long after that before I had my hands all over Mikey and we were tumbling up the stairs towards his bedroom as a mass of lips, spit and sweat.

The door shut and things got rough, lots of biting and scratching, exactly how I like it. But despite that initial enthusiasm, and the alcohol ever so present on his breath, Mikey was still hesitant when I began to tug at his clothes. His hand caught my wrist when I reached for the hem of his shirt, but a few comforting, reassuring words and it was only a few minutes and I had him laying before me on his bed, naked and beautiful. I was sure to admire every bit of the boy as I explored his body with my hands, and I memorized every gorgeous detail.

A lot of things blurred together after that, and I'm not exactly sure how I ended up back home, but I knew two things; Mikey Way was amazing, in more than one way, and I owed Trick big time.

I didn't see Mikey for a couple months after that, but the more time that passed since I met him that night, the more I thought about him and searched for him. He wasn't at any of the other parties I went to, I couldn't find him in the phone book, and I couldn't remember where his house was through the mixed haze of alcohol and drugs from that night, I was honestly surprised when I still remembered his name the day after. My need to see him got so bad that in my boredom I more than once found myself writing songs about him, and by the the end of the second month I had at least an album's worth of lyrics written.

Indeed, Mikey Way was elusive.

It must have been fate when I finally _did_ see him again. Trick, Joe, Andy and I were getting ready playing our first gig in a long time, at a small coffee house I wouldn't have thought not many people even knew existed, when he walked in. I spotted him and the multitude of input chords I was carrying for various basses, guitars and other instruments just fell from my hands.

My brain wasn't exactly working, so I just shouted from where I was on the tiny stage, “Hey, Mikey Way!?”

He looked around confused when heard his name, and he looked even more confused when I finally managed to get my feet to work and jumped off the stage, running towards him.

“Yeah, uh...oh, you're...Pete, right?”

“That's me. So hey, I've been trying to get a hold of you for ages? You wanna met me for coffee sometime? Maybe even back here, y'know?”

“...no thanks Pete. Sorry, I have a boyfriend now.”

I can now pin that moment as the one when I decided that Mikey was mine. Even if he was with someone else now, and didn't know it, he would be mine. I wouldn't give up on having him after all that time thinking about just because he was taken.

But now wasn't the time to do anything about that. I heard Patrick shouting at me that we were about to start our set, so I politely apologized to Mikey and excused myself. I briefly considered asking for him cellphone number, but I decided against it. Patrick would have it anyways. Patrick has everyone's phone number.

The gig went better than we would have expected, the coffee house was packed with people watching our performance by the end of the night. I knew the crowd wasn't any thanks to me this time though, I was on anything but my A game. Not only I knew it, but I could tell Patrick did as well. Every time I missed a few notes in a row, which happened more than once, he would take a glance back at me with a worried look. When we were done playing, and began packing up our equipment he confronted me.

“Pete, are you alright?” I knew I couldn't lie to him, Patrick knew me way to well for that. But I also knew that Patrick knew me well enough that when I lied to him, it was because I didn't want to talk about it. So I lied.

“Yeah, I'm fine.

“But, hey, you don't happen to have Mikey Way's cell number, do you?”

Three days, and a little bit of bribery later, I managed to get Mikey's number from Patrick.

I texted him late that night, or perhaps more accurately early the next morning. I didn't expect him to be awake, so I almost turned my phone off for the night, but just before I did, it began to vibrate in my hand. I checked, and sure enough, there was a text back from Mikey.

pw: hey mikey, its pete :)

mw: o, hi. howd u get my numbr?

pw: trick had it c:

mw: oh. :s okay.

pw: smthing wrong?

mw: no... g2g. bye

Mikey never responded to my texts after that, no matter how often I tried to message him, so I tried a different approach. I started spending a lot of time at the coffee house I saw Mikey at, hoping that maybe if I stuck around long enough I would see him. And I did, a few times actually.

After a few weeks of hanging around there I figured out his schedule. Consistently, on Mondays, Wednesdays and Thursday's Mikey would show up around 3:00pm, buy his coffee and leave. Inconsistently, about once a week in the evening, he would buy his coffee and sit at the table in the back corner. He'd wait there, and a few minutes later a short guy, with dark hair and way too many tattoos would show up and join him. His new boyfriend, I figured.

I started making sure I was there every time he came at three, just so I could see him, and I did my best to be there for his evening met ups too, but that wasn't enough. One day, a Thursday after he got his coffee, I followed him discretely on his way out. I drove a few cars behind him as he headed home, and ten minutes later, when he turned into a driveway on a street at the outskirts of town, I learned where the Way house was.

Later that same night I went back. I parked my car a few houses down, and approached the house of foot. I knew from Mikey's reactions to me in the past that he wouldn't just let me in the house if I rang the doorbell, so I didn't even bother. Instead, I climbed the large tree that stood just next to a second story window. The blinds were open, and through the window I could see quite a familiar sight. It was definitely Mikey's room, if his had been the one we'd used that night at the party.

After that discovery, my Mikey watch schedule got a little more intricate. I would go to the coffee shop still, but I also spent several nights a week in the tree at looked into his bedroom, hidden by the cover of the leaves.

It was fall though, and the nights got cold, so I devised another plan. I started getting to Mikey's house before him, climbing the tree and then climbing through his window, which I learned was always unlocked. I found a nice spot to sit in his closet, where I could nestle into the extra blankets he had piled on the floor, but I could still see him through the slitted openings in the closet door.

That first night I spent snuggled into Mikey's closet, admiring him as he slept, I decided to write another song about him. I had enough to make an album already, yes, and I was going to make that album, but none of the songs I'd written so far felt like a good opener. I needed something with more of a hook to it, more power, just more and that would be this song.

As quiet as I could, so I didn't wake the sleeping Mikey, a fished a pencil from the bag I'd brought with me, and found an old receipt to write on the back of.

_Am I more than you bargained for yet?_  
 _I've been dying to tell you_  
 _Anything you wanna hear_  
 _Cause that's just who I am this week._

That much came easily, but after that I was stuck. That was fine though, I had all the time I needed to write this, and at least I had a start. Perhaps the more time I spent around Mikey the easier it would come? After all, this was only the beginning.

The time I didn't spend at the coffee house or at the Way house, I started to spend a lot at the graveyard that happened to be halfway between the two houses. It was quite a relaxing place, I thought, and I wasn't at all bothered by the dead people right there? What were they going to do to me anyways? They're dead.

The graveyard turned into my thinking place. Whether I was having a dilemma over what I was going to do with my life, or I was writing a song, and the next lyrics just wouldn't come, that's where I'd go. And that's where I was when I thought of the next lines for my opener song.

I was sitting under the lone tree that overlooked all the graves, when it just happened. I pulled the crumpled receipt from my pocket again and jotted down the next phrases. It was just four more lines, but they were four lines I knew needed to be there.

_Lie in the grass,_  
 _Next to the mausoleum._  
 _I'm just a notch in your bedpost,_  
 _But you're just a line in a song._

The last line was a lie, and I knew it too well. He was a line in a lot of songs I wrote. He was every line in many songs, but I was willing to sacrifice that truth for the sake of the lyricality.

Back at the Way house, things began to change a little. It wasn't too long before I started seeing Mikey's boyfriend showing up at his house more and more.

He and “Frank” spent a lot of time in Mikey's room when he was over. Much of the time they would just sit there and talk and laugh, but sometimes it was more than that. The more time that past since his visits started the less they talked and the more they would sit on the bed, making out and what have you. It was pure torture. All I could do was sit in silence and watch, wishing I was the one to make Mikey smile, or laugh or get... excited the way Frank was making him.

The worst though, was the first time they had sex, because that was also the first time I heard Mikey say to Frank, “I love you.”

Mikey belonged with me, he was made to be with me, yet for some reason he seemed to think he loved this poser of a boyfriend. I could see how Frank would love Mikey of course, who wouldn't love him, but there was no way Mikey loved him back. He deserved so much better than he was getting with this guy, and I knew I could give him that.

It was wrong. Mikey was wrong and it pissed me off to no end. Through my anger lyrics began to flow again, easier than they had come before, and I wrote them down in haste before they disappeared.

_Is this more than you bargained for yet?_  
 _Oh, don't mind me_  
 _I'm watching you two from the closet_  
 _Wishing to be the friction in your jeans_

_Isn't it messed up?_  
 _How I'm just dying to be him_  
 _I'm just a notch in your bedpost_  
 _But you're just a line in a song._

I knew it couldn't keep going like this, so I made a plan and not a week later put it into motion.

As usual, I got to the Way's house before Mikey, climbed the tree and entered his room. But this time I didn't settle into his closet, instead I just sat on his bed and waited. As I'd predicted, I heard the front door open and shut a few minutes later, followed by Mikey's voice shouting through the house to see if anyone was home. I didn't answer of course.

I heard his footsteps up the stairs, and then the door opened.

“Pete, what the hell!? Get out of my house!” Mikey was so surprised by my mere presence he didn't notice when I pulled the pistol out of my coat. He must have been ever more surprised a moment later when a loud bang sounded through the air and suddenly there was a hole in his chest. As I've heard it said, nothing shocks you like a bullet hole.

He swayed on the spot for a few moments as the colour began to fade from his face, and then he just collapsed. His body crumpled in on itself and he tumbled to the ground awkwardly. I stared at him lying there for a minute, before checking his pulse. His non existent pulse. He was absolutely gone now. I was alone, and that was all that I needed to know.

I moved him as best I could onto his bed, sitting him up against the headboard like he'd fallen asleep reading a book. Except there was no book, and he wasn't asleep. I admired him there and that's when it dawned on me, I finally knew what my chorus was.

For the last time, I took the receipt out of my pocket and quickly scribbled down what I had in mind.

_Drop a heart,_  
 _Break a name_  
 _We're always sleepin' in and sleepin' for the wrong team._

_We're going down, down_  
 _In and earlier round,_  
 _And sugar we're going down swinging_  
 _I'll be your number one with a bullet_  
 _A loaded god complex_  
 _Cock it and pull it._

I signed the very bottom and put some instructions that it be given to Patrick, then ever so carefully placed it on Mikey's dresser, where there was no doubt it would be found.

I took one last look around the room, at the familiar sights of the tree outside the window that I had gotten so good at climbing in the past few months, the small closet I cramped myself into night after night, and at the new sight of Mikey's motionless body lying, bleeding on his bed. The bed that not so long ago had really been where this whole thing started.

I climbed up beside Mikey, pressed a kiss to his cheek and got comfortable. His hand, resting oddly on his leg, I took in my own. With my other, I raised the gun up to the light and let the surface bounce rays of light across the walls. As I placed the barrel against my temple I almost felt a brief flash of hesitation, and possibly regret. Patrick, and my band, my future, that album I would never get to play...

I tightened my grip on the trigger a bit, because none of that mattered now. I was going to be with Mikey like I was meant to be. That was the point of this all. Mikey. Mikey and love. Surely that was understandable.

I pulled back on the trigger.

**Author's Note:**

> Possible sequel in the works.


End file.
